


Cootie Catcher

by Glitter_Bug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Very much fluff, a little bit of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug
Summary: It’s Nurse Bonnie’s fault, Billy thought as he folded the paper again, Bonnie and her stupid obsession with keeping him busy, keeping his hands moving, keeping his brain active.He’d have been happy to stagnate. Left to his own devices to turn into a formless blob in front of episodes of Dynasty and reruns of Wheel of Fortune.But no, apparently he had to do arts and crafts like this was a summer camp rather than a hospital. And this week’s theme was those dumb little paper fortune tellers. Honest to God cootie catchers, like he was a fucking pre-teen girl.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 10
Kudos: 104





	Cootie Catcher

**Author's Note:**

> Just some silly little fluff.  
> Boys being dorky and sweet.
> 
> Also, I totally made a cootie catcher and played along to see if Billy's colour and number choices would work out as leading to three different fortunes so yeah, look at that, actual RESEARCH!

It’s Nurse Bonnie’s fault, Billy thought as he folded the paper again, Bonnie and her stupid obsession with keeping him busy, keeping his hands moving, keeping his brain active.

He’d have been happy to stagnate. Left to his own devices to turn into a formless blob in front of episodes of Dynasty and reruns of Wheel of Fortune.

But no, apparently he had to do arts and crafts like this was a summer camp rather than a hospital. And this week’s theme was those dumb little paper fortune tellers. Honest to God cootie catchers, like he was a fucking pre-teen girl. 

Still, Billy couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride when Bonnie praised his first attempt. It wasn’t exactly folded right, so the paper caught a little on itself when he opened it one way, and his handwriting was still too large and messy to fit much of value on the fortune flap, but he’d made it all by himself and damn, that was progress. And fiddling with it did seem to help his fingers when they started to twinge and prickle with pain. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

So he’d carried on. Kept on folding and scribbling long after Bonnie had finished her shift, leaving behind a few stacks of paper and a tub of broken Crayolas and stubby pencils. 

And he got better and better. Each one coming out that little bit neater, with even more writing squeezed onto the tiny flaps, until his fingers flew over the paper without thinking and it actually started to became a little therapeutic.

Until he ended up surrounded by the little fuckers.

It made the other nurses smile, when they came in the morning to drain his blood and change his bandages. Nurse Shirley took the one that Billy offered her and enjoyed quizzing the others, giggling at some of Billy’s very obviously tailored fortunes. “Ok Gina, you got, ‘ _Dr. Wilson was definitely checking you out yesterday._ ’ See! I told you he was looking!” 

It made Max grin when she came in that day for her weekly visit with El, who- it turned out- had never seen a cootie catcher before and managed to look both utterly disgusted and entirely thrilled when she got _‘next time you yawn, you’ll swallow a bug’_ as her fortune. She was so taken by the whole thing that Billy ended up spending the rest of their visit patiently helping her to make some of her own, laughing until his ribs ached at the disgusting ‘fortunes’ that she and Max devised between them.

It made Harrington gasp when he stopped by after lunch.

Billy was a little surprised at his reaction. Steve had been his partner in crime through all of Nurse Bonnie’s bright ideas. He’d managed to get them both completely tangled together during a very unsuccessful attempt at macramé; he’d sat for hours in the dayroom, whistling and singing along badly while Billy tapped out hesitant scales and children’s songs on the barely tuned piano; he’d rolled clay balls to _enhance_ Billy’s already unsubtly phallic vases when he tried pottery.

But for some reason, the cootie catcher was the one that enthused him the most. 

“Shit Hargrove, haven’t seen one of these since elementary school!” he grinned as he sank into the chair by Billy’s bed and started flicking through the nearest fortune teller, opening the flaps at random. 

Billy immediately leaned over to snatch it out of his hand.

“Don’t cheat,” he chided, wagging a finger, ‘Gotta do it properly or it’s bad luck.”

“Fine,” Steve shuffled closer, resting an elbow on the side of Billy’s bed, “Go ahead,”

“Colour?” Billy asked, angling the paper towards Steve,

Uh…” Steve pursed his lips for a moment, then he looked into Billy’s eyes and smiled, “Blue.”

“B-L-U-E,” Billy spelled out, showing the revealed numbers to Steve.

“Three,” 

“One, two, three.”

“Seven,”

“Ugh, really? _Fine_ , one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Billy dashed through the numbers quickly, noticing how easy it was to move his fingers, huh, maybe Bonnie does know what she’s talking about after all. 

“Ready?” he asked, pausing just before he lifted the flap. Steve nodded eagerly as Billy scanned over the paper, mouth quirking up into a devious smirk. He moved even closer, nose almost touching Steve’s, as he read it out.

“ _You have the world’s biggest booger hanging out of your nose_ ,” 

Then he leaned his head back and laughed, recovering just enough to take one look at Steve’s entirely unimpressed face before he started howling again.

“What are you, eight?” Steve rolled his eyes, “You got some fart jokes in there too?” 

Billy wiped away a few tears and took a moment to catch his breath, “Possibly. That’s one that Max made, she’s kinda immature.”

Steve muttered something under his breath about her learning from the best and Billy chose to ignore him, flicking the catcher idly between his fingers instead.

“Anyway, now it’s my turn to do you,” Steve said a few moments later,

Billy jerked his head at that, mouth gaping. “Huh?”

“Your fortune,” Steve explained, “I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

“Oh.” Billy handed over Max’s catcher, but he batted it away,

“No way, I’m making my own.” Steve toed off his sneakers and pushed at Billy’s legs until he made space on the bed, “A proper one with proper fortunes,” he muttered, shuffling around until he was comfortable, his back resting against the footboard and his toes wedged perilously close to Billy’s ass, “Gimme the paper.”

“Manners, Harrington,” but Billy was already handing it over along with a handful of crayons, “Do you even know how to make one?” 

Steve scoffed, “I’m sure I can figure it out,” 

Billy watched in amused silence as Steve turned the paper around in his hands, folding it halfway and then opening it back up, only to spin it round and try again at a different angle. He looked up at Billy, a little sheepish.

“Um, maybe…”

“Just watch,” Billy smiled, grabbing a fresh sheet and taking Steve through the motions slowly, step by step, until they both had a cootie catcher sitting in front of them. 

Billy zoned out a little as Steve filled in his catcher, watching as he’d stare into space, brow furrowed, until inspiration struck and then he’d hurry to scribble whatever he thought of down, tongue peeking out the side of his mouth as he tried to squeeze his handwriting into the small space. He was clearly taking it seriously, stopping and starting and even scrabbling for an eraser on a couple of occasions, but eventually he sat back, holding his cootie catcher with a look of triumph.

“Right, you ready?” he asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the paper.

“‘Bout fucking time, Harrington,” Billy huffed, “Thought you were actually channeling the spirits when you wrote those fortunes. Gimme, uh, red.”

A flash of embarrassment had crossed Steve’s face, but it was soon replaced with a grin as he flicked the catcher open and shut. Billy kept it just as quick for the numbers, choosing one and two, so it was mere seconds before Steve got to the fortune. He smirked.

“ _Someone here really likes your hair._ ” he read out with a smile, and Billy groaned,

“That’s what you spent all that time thinking up? Thought it was gonna be something juicy Harrington,”

Steve’s face fell, smile dropping and eyes flicking down to the paper in his hands. He hunched down a little, ducking his head, and Billy felt a sharp stab of guilt. He shuffled forward to press one finger against Steve’s hands, rubbing small circles when Steve didn’t acknowledge him.

“Hey. Lemme go again,” Billy asked, voice soft, “See if I can get one that I didn’t already know.” 

Steve looked up with a flicker of a smile.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, “I kinda rushed it anyway. Let me do it properly.” His eyes tracked to the soft, forest coloured sweater that Steve was wearing, “Green.” 

Steve counted it out carefully and held up the numbers for Billy to see.

“Six…Seven.”

Steve lifted the flap, locking eyes with Billy as he read it out,

“ _Someone here really likes spending time with you_.”

And

_Oh_

The heat grew in Billy’s cheeks; he knew he was blushing, and Steve still wasn’t looking away. Instead he shuffled a little closer, holding up the catcher once more,

“Maybe, uh, maybe you should try again? One more time.”

“You saying you don’t like spending time with me, Harrington?”

“Nope,” Steve’s voice was a whisper, “Just…just sayin’. Third time’s the charm.” 

Billy swallowed. 

“Yellow.”

Steve’s wasn’t even looking down at the catcher in his hand,

“Eight.”

Billy could feel his heart pounding.

“Five.”

Steve’s fingers slowly peeled back the paper triangle.

He moves even closer. His breath soft and sweet across Billy’s face.

“ _Someone here really wants to kiss you right now._ ”

Billy can feel Steve’s words against his lips, can feel the slight question there.

He leans forward to answer it.  
  
The only thing that Billy can think about- besides the warmth of Steve’s lips on his, besides the way Steve’s hand comes up to gently cup at his cheek, besides the way his own fingers fit so well when they entwine with Steve’s- is the promise of the fortunes still left to be told. 


End file.
